Feast Day

Homemade granola.  It has been years, but I made it again this month. 
I was disappointed last Sunday that I couldn't have it for breakfast because it was Fast Sunday. 
By the time I got up today, the bucket was nearly empty.
Just enough for one more tasty bowl for me.

Sarajoy's turn to feast.
I've begun to insist that she wait until the sacrament has been administered before I'll take her out to nurse.
She's starting to understand.
The sound system was out, so the Mother's room was quiet.
We rocked and nursed and--is she sleeping?
Yes! She hasn't done this since she was a newborn.  She nursed and nursed and nursed to sleep.
She had that wonderful peaceful look on her face. 
The one where the bottom lip is slightly drawn out because she fell asleep in the act of suckling. 
And the eyelashes are resting on rosy cheeks.
Even if she does keep me up nights, and she's getting too old for such things,
I'm glad she's still my baby.

Sunday school. 
I'm so thankful for the masterful teachers we have in this ward. 
Class members create their own parables through comment.
I sit by my husband and drink it all in.

Relief Society.
The Word of Wisdom.  I was prepared.  I had studied the lesson, talked it over with Dallin, thought of some things I could do better.
"Cease to find fault one with another." 
Where did that come from?  How did I miss it?
But a perfectly placed reminder.  This law of health is interpreted so individually. 
In your enthusiasm to keep commandments, don't let charity fall by the wayside.
Pride Goeth, remember?
I remember, and I am thankful for the reminder.

Tiny Daffodils.
The smallest I've ever seen. 
The earliest I've ever seen.
The only offering I could think of to let my neighbor know I care.
I noticed her tears today in church.
On Missionary Mom Sunday, she grieves for her boy--his friends are all out now,
but he chose a different path.
The wedding is this month.
How glad I am that I listened, and snipped sunshine, and carried it across the street!
It brightens and nourishes in both directions.

Taco Sunday.
Every 2nd Sunday.  Everyone is invited to the M's house for tacos. 
We  soaked in rays of warmth as we walked there to be fed.
Delicious food, wonderful company.

Choir Practice.
Songs of praise sung in nutrient-rich harmonies.

Youth Fireside.
They all sat and listened and commented.  Sometimes it got noisy and they spoke out of turn. 
But I got the feeling that most of them genuinely want to be good. 
I'm mostly afraid of teenagers. 
Tonight I realized they're still just kids. 
And they still need adults.
And they will listen and learn in the right setting.
And we can all use a reminder about the role of media in our lives.
And the caramel apple vs. caramel onion object lesson was a treat!

Late Dinner.
Warm soup ready in the crock-pot.
Table set by kids waiting at home.
White beans, onions, carrots, barley
Swimming in ham bone broth, a special gift from my mom.
(Weeks ago, I talked her out of going to the trouble of boiling the ham bone.  She had just finished putting on a huge family dinner.  Then it was my job to discard the meaty bone.  I couldn't do it.  I decided to take it home.  She found out it was in my car and boiled it for me.  I forgot to take it home.  She strained the broth and picked the bone and froze it all and brought it to me this week.  I wanted to save her the trouble, so instead she went to the trouble for ME.  That's how my mom is.)
It was a winning combination. 
We could all taste the love in there.
As I started washing dishes, my bean-hater 12 year old said, "Mom, that was delicous. Thanks."
And he rinsed his bowl and added it to the pile. 

Dishes done, kitchen clean, kids in bed.
A sweet hour of prayer and study and meditation.
I wrote and searched and learned and planned.
A delicacy on any day, but a rare treat on a busy Sunday.

I am filled and still my cup runneth over.

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